


The Blogger’s Revenge

by Whytejigsaw



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whytejigsaw/pseuds/Whytejigsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post TRF: John makes his own deductions and chronicles how Sherlock and Molly came to be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blogger’s Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Story presumes that Sherlock has now restored his life and reputation and that Molly was somehow, nebulously, involved in it. The title refers to John finally getting his own back on Sherlock for all his long suffering, while entirely missing the point. The tone of this is taken from original Conan Doyle stories where he switches between Watson and an unnamed omniscient narrator to relate events. This has made my dialogue come out rather more Victorian than I planned!

As readers will be aware by now, I am given to chronicling the cases of Sherlock Holmes. Recently, a different sort of activity has occupied Mr Holmes, and I’m sure readers will find it as diverting as I have.

In the course of our work, we’ve made the acquaintance of a certain woman, whom I shall call Molly. Both Sherlock and I have come to trust her a great deal, and she was of enormous help during the “Reichenbach Fall” case and its subsequent resolution in the “Adventure of the Empty House”.

Sherlock and I settled back into life in 221B. Mrs Hudson continued to blur the lines between landlady and housekeeper. Lestrade continued to need our help on cases. We continued to need Molly’s help to solve them. Molly is in love with Sherlock. While usually disinterested, he’s not above a bit of flirting to gain her help in more unusual matters. He’ll toss out a compliment about her hair so she’ll stay late and assist with boring lab tests. I’ve tried telling him that it’s not acceptable behaviour but he doesn’t get it.

“Sherlock, that was quite a display today.”

“Thank you, John. It’s so refreshing to have you compliment my efforts instead of the more usual commentary. One of your best qualities,” said Sherlock.

“No. You misunderstand me. I wasn’t complimenting you. It’s disgraceful the way you treat Molly. She fancies you, and you use her to get your way. The really pathetic thing is, if you just asked her straight out, she’d do it anyway,” I said.

“Oh I know. How could I forget the way she helped me fake my death?” he replied.

“So why not just treat her like a proper friend? Stop toying with her. Tell her nothing further can happen between you,” I answered.

Sherlock lay back on the couch and closed his eyes.

“I’ll think about it.”

Two hours later, Sherlock surprised me more than he ever had before.

“I’ve thought about it, and there’s something you should know,” he announced.

“What?”

“After The Fall, I stayed with Molly for a few days.”

“Hardly news, Sherlock.”

“I’m getting to it. I may have kissed Molly once during that time.”

I was astonished. Shocked that Sherlock had done anything of the sort. Surprised that Molly had not let on. Annoyed that he hadn’t told me before. 

“You kissed her? Was this after some grievous insult like at our Christmas party last year? So awful that even you knew you had to apologise?”

“No! If you will be quiet, I will relate the entire story. When you are in full possession of the facts, you may give your opinion,” Sherlock said.

I waved my hand in agreement, and Sherlock told his tale.

“It was a couple of days after the incident. Apart from some bruising, I was recovering nicely from my fall. Molly had a surprisingly good beside manner considering her usual patients are already deceased. However, I was feeling sorry for myself: away from all my customary comforts and friends. She did her best to cheer me up, though I decidedly did not wish it. She even offered to play Cluedo. At the end of the evening, we were sitting side by side on the couch. I’d won the game. Her efforts had been moderately successful. I felt I should be grateful, so I said to her:

“Thank you, Molly, for all your assistance.”

Rather tediously, she replied: “Sherlock, you don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything to help you.”   
And she looked up at me with those lovely big brown eyes. John, for once, I allowed my emotions to rule me, and I kissed her.”

I couldn’t stop myself from interjecting here.

“What sort of a kiss was it?” I cried.

“Well, we were on the couch, half facing each other.”

“Not the geography, you plonker! Was it on the cheek? Were there tongues?”

Sherlock looked distinctly uncomfortable. He wasn’t the sort of man to indulge in “girl talk.”

“It was on the lips, briefly open mouthed, and lasted 14 seconds.” His faraway look confirmed he was reliving it, at least a little.

“And what happened then?”

“I apologised, of course. Explained it had been a rough couple of days. Left the room and went to bed.”

“Oh. And she was ok with that? And how were things the next day?” I was disappointed that Sherlock had left this are unexplored. He is of course woefully deficient when it comes to love and someday, he will fail to solve a case because of it.

“She was fine. In fact, since then, you could say I have been dining out on that kiss. She’s been more helpful than ever. Even after my resurrection, the effects of it live on. I’m considering kissing her once every 2 months, just to keep up the outcome,” he mused.

I was aghast.

“Sherlock! You can’t just kiss a girl once in a while so she will be of more use to you. It’s unacceptable. If I knew a man was using my sister like that, I’d deck him.”

“John. Even I would be surprised if a man was kissing your sister.”

I smiled, for it was true, Harry would never allow a man to kiss her.

“Joking aside, man, you can’t do that. It’s unfair to mess with her emotions like that.”

“You haven’t considered all sides of the matter, as usual,” sighed Sherlock, taking up his violin: a sure sign that the conversation was over.

“What other side is there?!”

Sherlock just smiled at me, and began playing.

Forced into silence, I mulled over the subject. Who was I to play judge and jury? Molly did not seem unhappy with the end result, though clearly she did not know it was to be repeated. Sherlock was gaining all the lab time he needed. I decided to observe them for a while before bring up the matter again.

A week later, another case found us back at Molly’s workplace. I had gone out to get coffee for us. Returning to the lab, I was surprised by the tableau before me.

Molly had Sherlock pinned between her and the workbench. They were kissing. His hands were in her hair, which was down, and her arms were linked around his neck, as she stood on her tiptoes to reach him. It looked like it had been going on substantially longer than 14 seconds.

It was a bit like seeing animals at the zoo. I’m a little ashamed to say that I stood and watched. After a minute, Sherlock noticed me. He gently disengaged Molly.

“Ah John. I hope you remembered the sugar this time,” he said casually. I stood there impersonating a goldfish. Molly tied her hair back, sporting a small blush and a smile. We continued our work in silence. After the tests were done, Sherlock called Lestrade with a resolution and we headed for home.

Once we were in the taxi, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“So explain yourself,” I said.

“I thought you were clear on how the marks on the wrist led to the murderer?” he said.

“No. You. Molly. The kissing!”

“Oh, we’re back to this? It’s all rather simple. I decided to speed up the timeline.”

“There’s a timeline now? For what?”

“I’ve anticipated that the upcoming Olympics will precipitate a crime wave. We may need Molly to work longer hours, come in at weekends, etc.”

“Sherlock. That’s despicable. The Olympics don’t start for another 5 months! Do you know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” he snorted.

“I think you like her. You’re afraid to admit it so you’ve come up with a ridiculous plan to allow you access to her.”

“I wouldn’t branch into psychology any time soon, my friend. Ah, here we are. Pay the taxi driver, will you?” He leapt out of the car before I could reply.

Despite his protestations, I knew my friend well enough to be confident that my diagnosis was correct. But how to make him see it? I needed to lay it out for Sherlock. My first step was to subject him to several romantic comedies where protagonists make convoluted plans to see their love interest. It wasn’t hard to find this sort of film: the whole genre is built around it. Sherlock protested soundly at my movie choices but endured them.

Phase II involved a dinner party. I invited my current lady friend and Molly. Sherlock was forced to make small talk, as best he could. I wish I could have filmed it for you readers, it was a treat. Topics he thought suitable included the colours different gases gave off when ignited, the merits of using an Oyster card to track movement, and a rather grisly discussion about “severed heads he had owned” over dessert, though Molly was quite animate on that subject herself. My lady friend and I did the washing up, leaving Sherlock and Molly alone. When we returned with coffee, I was gratified to find Molly sitting on Sherlock’s lap snogging the face off him! Inwardly, I was very pleased but I put on my best stoic face. 

“Well, you are making rather a habit of this!” I said.

“And you are making rather a habit of interrupting us,” said a wine-emboldened Molly, “I’ll be heading home now, Sherlock. See you soon?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for coming this evening.” She left quietly.

“Well, Sherlock. I can’t see what possible case-related use there was for that kiss,” I said smugly.

“As always, you see but you did not observe.”

“Oh I observed alright. You were all over her. You *want* her. You’re annoyed she’s not still here.”

“If anything, I’m annoyed you’re still here,” he retorted. Without another word, he got up, grabbed his coat and scarf and left.

Outside, Molly had already left. Sherlock hailed a taxi and gave her address. His superior knowledge of the city meant that he arrived before her, and was waiting outside her door.

“Sherlock? What are you doing here?” said Molly.

Sherlock pulled her in close and whispered into her hair.

“It’s ok. He knows.”

“Oh thank God, I don’t think I could have kept up that pretence any longer.” She leaned into his chest.

“It was necessary. He had to figure it out on his own. It wouldn’t have been fair to return to life and inflict the news that I had a girlfriend at the same time!”

“In that case, you can stay over. It’s been far too long, my love.”


End file.
